


The Importance of Wearing Shades

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blood, Established Relationship, First Aid, Gen, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave didn't question it when Bro told him he always needed to wear shades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Importance of Wearing Shades

You and Karkat usually hang out at his apartment. The two of you talk, watch television, play games, mess around on his computer, and do homework. And you kiss and get each other off when his dad’s not in the room. But today, Karkat’s brother came home from college and Karkat mentioned that he’s really tired from the drive. So you offered up your place. 

 

It’s not like Bro doesn’t allow visitors, but seeing all of the puppets and weapons everywhere might creep some people out. Karkat already said that he doesn’t mind, but both of you agree that Karkat’s place is much more normal.

 

When you get to your apartment after school, you point the way to the living room. “I’m just going to get something to eat. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the couch.”

 

You hope that Bro isn’t going to jump you. You walk into the kitchen and peer around. No sign of him yet.

 

“Oh my God, Dave. You really weren’t kidding about these things,” Karkat says from the living room.

 

“Dude, I told you.”

 

“They’re weird.”

 

“Hey man, don’t hate on the puppets. They’re cool.”

 

“Of course. That was what I was going to say next. Right after ‘Jesus fucking Christ, is that a pile of swords?’ and ‘Do you think your television is big enough?’ Really Dave, it’s like twice the size of mine. How can you be satisfied with playing games on my screen of inferior quality if you’ve had this all along?”

 

You open the refrigerator and push aside some swords, looking for the bag of Doritos Bro always has on the second shelf. You don’t question why he puts Doritos in the refrigerator. Just like how you don’t question why he puts ramen and cans of soup in the oven and then hangs nunchucks on the handle next to the towels.

 

Karkat is silent in the other room. You find the half-empty bag of Doritos and look for a bowl to put them in. 

 

There is a distant thump. You turn towards the living room, but you don’t hear Karkat cursing or moving around. He probably just shoved some things off the couch to make room.

 

You leave the kitchen with the chips and freeze at what you see.

 

Karkat is sprawled half on the table and half on the floor. A moderate amount of blood pools on the floor around his head, which is still slowly dripping.

 

You drop the bowl and you’re at his side in an instant. You gently move him off the table and hold him so he’s facing upwards. His eyes are half-closed and unfocused. His cheek is marred by a long scrape close to his eye.

 

You suddenly notice something else. Karkat is holding Lil Cal. Cal’s blue eyes are intense, gazing up at you, almost as if he’s trying to find your eyes through your shades. You pry Karkat’s hands off him and put him on the couch behind you. 

 

You flash to the closest first aid box. After propping up Karkat’s head on your knee, you begin gently cleaning the blood away with an antiseptic-soaked piece of gauze so you can get a better look at the cut.

 

It’s long and a little deep. He’ll need stitches. You know how to apply them, but you wish Karkat was conscious so you could keep him from freaking out. You pat at his chest.

 

“Karkat? Hey, Karkat. Wake up.”

 

Karkat doesn’t respond. It’s a little odd, because usually when someone faints, their eyes close, but Karkat’s are still slightly open. No, wait, they’re closing now.

 

You steady your breath and take out the needle, scissors and thread. Doing this to someone else is a lot more nerve-racking than doing it to yourself. You take about twice as long as you would for yourself, because you’re half-expecting Karkat to wake up and fly into a rage about you being a goddamn good Samaritan. Your hands start shaking halfway through and you pause briefly, willing them to relax before finishing the job. 

 

Finally, the stitches are done. You carefully smear skin glue over the closed wound. Then you take a medical patch and set it over the cut, and wrap a piece of gauze to hold it in place. It unfortunately covers one of his eyes. Wow, he looks like a pirate. Once he gets past the freak-out over the cut, you should ask if he wants to ironically pretend he’s in a fantasy sitcom. Knowing him, he’ll either turn it into a mushy—but admittedly cute—romcom, or he’ll keep going with the pirate thing and you’ll spar for a while until you get tired of demanding a rematch to break the tie.

 

Karkat still hasn’t moved. This is beginning to concern you more. There is quite a bit of blood spilled on the floor and table and his shirt and your pants, but he should have at least reacted to you sewing up his face without anesthetic. 

 

You should get him out of that bloody shirt. And clean the floor. 

 

You stand up and pull him halfway up, but he’s a little too heavy for you to actually carry, so you end up dragging him to your room. When you open the door, Cal is sitting at your computer, facing you as you enter.

 

You ignore Cal and prop Karkat against the side of your bed. You wrestle Karkat out of his shirt until it only needs to go over his head. Mindful of the gauze, you slip it over his head. Besides his neck, his skin is free of blood. You toss the shirt aside and find a loose shirt in your drawer that shouldn’t brush against the wound as it goes over his head.

 

After putting it on Karkat, you change your pants into something less bloody as well.

 

Karkat is still motionless. You go to the kitchen and bring back a bottle of apple juice. He needs fluids and sugar. 

 

You shake him more. “Hey, Karkat. Karkat. Sleeping Eyepatch.”

 

Karkat’s eye opens. He raises one hand to touch at the gauze covering the cut and his eye.

 

“Oh, yeah. I patched you up after you fell and hurt yourself. Now you look like a badass pirate. Or like you were in a bar fight. You should tell people that they should see the other guy. I’d believe it if you told me that and I knew nothing about this.”

 

Karkat is silent for a moment. “I fell?”

 

He doesn’t remember? He might have a concussion. “Yeah. Blood everywhere like you were trying to paint the carpet. And your face. And your shirt. I gave you mine by the way and it looks a lot better on you than blood.” You realize that you’re about to start rambling and cut yourself off. “Do you feel okay?” You crouch on the floor in front of him and hand him the juice. “Here, you need to drink this.”

 

Thankfully, Karkat doesn’t complain and drinks enough of the juice to make you more comfortable. He’s still silent. Maybe he’s light-headed. Any moment now, he’s going to realize what happened and find a way to yell at you for an hour without actually saying that he’s mad at you. Then again, him falling probably wasn’t his fault. How did he fall anyway?

 

“Dave.” Karkat’s voice is soft. He puts the cap back on the bottle and is now watching you with his one visible eye. 

 

“What?”

 

“Can I see your eyes? Right now?”

 

That came out of nowhere. “I’m beginning to think you have a concussion, Karkat. How are you feeling?”

 

“Dave, I’m fine.”

 

“No. You cannot be fine. The living room still looks like a crime scene. Like Agent Smith is going to show up any moment. I’m going to end up calling a forensics team asap, so Bro doesn’t cry when he sees the stains on his polka dot smuppets.”

 

“Can you take off your shades real quick?”

 

“Why is this a matter of importance right now? This and important should not be in the same thought process. Important is too busy trying to figure out what the fuck happened to you and whether I should take you to the hospital to get your head checked out.”

 

Karkat sighs and his face breaks into a soft smile. “Please. I just want to see them.”

 

He’s not even complaining about your shitty metaphors. 

 

You hesitantly reach up a hand to your shades. Then you drop your hand. Karkat’s smile twitches and you see his eyes flick to something behind you.

 

You turn around. Cal is sitting on your desk, facing Karkat. You spin around again and Karkat is slowly moving towards you. He is smiling peacefully again, eyelid lowered as if he is about to fall unconscious again.

 

Karkat speaks again, but it’s not him.

 

“Come on, Dave. I just want to see your eyes. Karkat thinks they’re pretty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise creepypasta. Yay.
> 
> [Super-cool art by Jai R!!](http://jairart.tumblr.com/post/61584565287).
> 
> Inspired by [this thing](http://shooshpapkind.tumblr.com/post/40339915116/wearing-shades-keeps-you-safe-from).


End file.
